Killing Sunlight

CHAPTER THREE | One August Night

Startled by his greeting, the stranger watched the letter sail from her trembling hands. Its resting place became the ground below her feet, never to be read in fullness.

Since revealing himself under the moonlight, he'd also gotten a better look at her. Unremarkably, her complexion was pallid, save for her cheeks and the tip of her nose, which flushed due to cold. To evaluate her build as slight was to neglect that she edged on malnourished, and the tatty sweater she wore did nothing to disguise this. Odder still, she wore no coat despite the season. He veered towards the notion that she was a runaway.

Undoubtedly, he'd found an easy snack. The timing of her solitude was altogether curious—suspiciously so—almost too easy. Pushing back his coat sleeve, he read the time; it was nearer morning than midnight.

All oddities combined, the situation paralleled many a terrible crime, and no matter how commonplace misery was in her life, it did nothing to mellow her. One worst-case scenario played out in her fertile imagination. Perhaps a search party might comb through this exact spot, where all they'd find would be a crumpled envelope stained with her 'unusual' blood. A quirk that had been explained as an anomaly or some rare, unknown disorder of which she was the unfortunate owner. This symptom bothered her the least: the migraines, muscle aches, amenorrhoea, and inconvenient allergies were also nothing but a nuisance. It was the alarmingly vivid dreams that kept her up at night that were her true tormentor. Such dreams often depicted events that later became reality. Even this moment felt familiar, somehow. Now, a vague sense of déjà vu disturbed her. The foreboding churning in her gut caused her to reach into the pouch pocket of her sweatshirt, where her fingers gripped a folded pocketknife. She prayed she wouldn't have to brandish the weapon because, frankly, she had no idea how to use it.

Through rambling thoughts, she was still trying to piece together how the dream of this encounter had ended. Had it been sinister? Did she meet her demise? Did it happen here, or did it result in her being towed off to God knows where? Perhaps in the back of someone's trunk? Try as she might, she couldn't remember, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't in the right place.

Meanwhile, the stranger loitered not ten yards away, contemplating what she'd do if or when he closed the space between them. Fight or flight was the usual forecast. He didn't mind which she chose.

The girl instead displayed another reaction—one of stunned silence and stillness elicited by unshakable fright and hoped that he would just go away. But when he didn't, she frantically exclaimed, "I-I don't have any money,"

He stalled, perhaps a little spooked by her fawning. Centering, he quipped, "It's a good thing I don't want your money then."

She cringed. The rich didn't go about mugging people; she knew that! Yet even if she considered all manner of dark purposes he could've had in mind for her, drinking her blood would never have featured.

When he drew nearer, his footfalls made little sound, but the closer he came, the more she sensed something quite disarming about his aura. Though his cursed Vampiric allure was working, it wasn't quite convincing its victim. The girl mistrusted how compelled she felt to relax in his company; instead, instinct moved her to defend herself. From her pocket, she revealed the penknife as a warning.

His lips tightened, fighting an amused smirk. The knife was of no consequence when she held it so haphazardly, so rather than chuckling, he asked, "Aren't you asking for trouble being out so late and alone?"

"I could say the same to you," the girl retorted.

It was proving difficult to keep a grin from his stoic face. "Oh, I can take care of myself,"

He hadn't decided whether or not he'd make a lunge for her throat. There was a growing chance that he wouldn't. Scaring the girl didn't flatter his ego, certainly not when she was overwhelmingly meek, and besides, her feistiness was amusing.